


No Capes

by practicingsands



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2613002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/practicingsands/pseuds/practicingsands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephanie and Damian ride a Ferris wheel. Bonding ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Capes

“I just don’t understand why this is necessary.”

“Bruce is busy going over expense reports, and Dick has a date. You know that." 

Stephanie stole a handful of popcorn from the bag Damian was munching on begrudgingly. The end of the business quarter meant an usually busy Bruce Wayne, and with that, an unusually bored Damian. That coupled with Dick’s newfound interest in the barista from the Starbucks on seventh meant the rest of the Gotham's vigilantes had to take shifts bat-sitting. Tim straight up refused to help out; Cassandra honestly enjoyed spending time with Damian, her nights were more and more frequently spent doubling for Bruce under the Bat-mantle. Even Babs volunteered from time-to-time, but her version of Damian-watching typically consisted of pairing him up with the Birds and sending him overseas, which Dinah flat-out vetoed after a particularly rough night.

Inevitably, the task would end up on Stephanie's lap, who picked it up more eagerly than she would like to admit. Damian, as difficult as he was, made for a good partner in the field and a decent conversationalist during down time. Occasionally, he was even enjoyable to be around, in the snarky, gossipy, ass-hole-best-friend kind of way. On nights when she knew Gotham would be quiet and have plenty of vigilantes on patrol to cover any unexpected mishaps, she used her time watching him as a chance to get him out of the Robin uniform and into real life.

"It's not the their absence I'm questioning.” Damian said, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth. “It's why father feels I need to be watched every damn second. I'm not a child, anymore. I think I'll be safe if I’m left alone for one night."

"I don't think it's _you're_ safety he’s worried about."

He gave a small shrug as if to say 'fair enough' and took a long sip of his apple cider. "It's still irritating."

"Don't worry, Li’l Wayne. He’ll shut down BatDad mode at some point.”

“Doubt it.”

“No, really. I just think he’s having a tough time separating the 'Bat' from the 'Dad.' He'll get the hang of it one day. But until then, I am you're bat-tested, bat-approved adult figure.”

“Good Lord, the fact that you of all people classify as an ‘adult’ is terrifying.”

“Yes it is, D. Yes it is."

The Gotham Carnival ran from May through September, which meant plenty of warm nights to wander through bustling crowds and leisurely experience overpriced food and even more overpriced games. However, she knew that Damian's patience was short, and that big crowds and long lines could seriously endanger any chance she had to squeeze some fun-time out of him. So instead of dragging him down in the middle of July, she waited for a nice chilly September evening to take him down to the fair-grounds, when they would have to rely on layered sweatshirts and Wayne-bankrolled hot-apple cider to keep the evening warm and palatable. It worked nicely, though, and there was almost no crowd to slow them down.

"So what horror of an activity are you going to force me into tonight?"

"Oh come on, they aren't all terrible."

"Bobbing for apples?"

"That was fun!"

"I'm twelve and I was at least twice as old as everyone there. You looked like an insane dinosaur."

"Well...you know...First rule of growing-old: never grow up."

"Uh-huh. Sure. So what are we doing tonight?"

"I figured we could just wander around until something caught our eye-- Yes."

"What?"

"That." Steph pointed to a massive wheel that arched over the Gotham skyline.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a Ferris wheel."

"What does it...do?"

"It spins. You sit on it. You know, a Ferris wheel."

"Sounds like a waste of time."

"Exactly."

She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the short line of small children and adult guardians that stretched in-front of the ride. She noticed his face flush with just the slightest undertone of pink his soft-brown skin would allow.

Steph had caught on long ago that he had a crush on her. It was nothing serious, and nothing surprising. Damian, unfortunately, had an infamous bad habit of developing a crush on anyone and anything that payed attention to him for more than twenty minutes. With bigger fixtures in his life like Dick, it meant awkward stumbling and miscommunication during missions and Wayne Enterprises events. With those less fond of him, like Tim, it meant long nights of dealing with half-peacocking, half-flirting on Damian's part while trying to shake him off. But with Stephanie, most of their interactions were friendly and meaningless. She liked having him around for the company and he not-so-secretly enjoyed it too. Rather than seeing it as a hindrance, she used it as an excuse to acclimate him to normal life.

It made her feel just the slightest bit guilty, leading on a kid almost half her age, but he really couldn't spend his life locked up in the cave or prowling the streets looking for bigger, badder people to beat up. He needed socialization. Friends. Laffy Taffy. And while she had every reason to believe that Dick would have done a great job forcing Damian to experience Captain Crunch and Saturday Morning Cartoons, she knew that he couldn't do everything. So from time to time, she took it upon herself to give him a real, decent childhood. He at least deserved that much.

The wind picked up as they filed through the gate into a cold seat while they waited for the operator to rotate them into the air. They began to rise and Steph was struck by the beauty of the skyline. Nearly every night she traced those big, black buildings with her movements, with her body. So rarely, though, did she see it from a distance in its entirety. She took in a deep breath of grimy-sea air, wondering how her entire life, her entire world could be so small sometimes.

The ride stopped to let on another passenger while Damian shivered next to her. She began to swing her legs to keep warm, causing the chair to sway in a soft, rhythmic fashion.

"What are you doing??" His words were rushed, and lacked the vaguely-aggressive tone that he usually affected. Instead, he sounded almost... Panicked.

She looked over and found him desperately clutching the metal bar next to him, his eyes wide and fixed on the ground. 

"Uh… sorry. Do you want me to stop?"

"Yes. Yeah. I mean…whatever," he hesitated as if to find the right excuse for his sudden display of almost-emotion. "I just don't know why you insist on drawing attention to yourself. It's no wonder I spend half my time saving your ass." 

"Says the kid who practically lives in a canary-yellow cape."

Damian's fingers slowly loosened their grip and the seat slowed to a stop. His eyes tracked a cargo ship that was docking in the bay, while he began to bite at his lower lip—a tick that meant he was about to say something either Bruce, or Talia, or both wouldn’t approve of.

"It is rather odd how bright it is. The cape, I mean..."

"I think Bruce picked it out because it made Dick feel more comfortable. You know, circus kid... Bright colors, spandex. He probably felt right at home. I guess from then on it just became tradition..."

He nodded but stayed silent; Steph understood.

Tradition was a heavy word in Gotham, and no one understood that better than a Robin. From the moment Dick retired and a street kid with a tire-wrench became the next Boy-Wonder, the title “Robin” carried a weight that was almost too much to bear. Still, that name was passed on, over and over, like a baton at middle-school track practice--through shaky hands and unsure grips, where it would be dropped far too many times, leaving a trail of kids in coffins and costumes in cases behind.

For Damian it was so much worse, though, and she could feel that. Legacy for him wasn’t a choice—it was a inherent fact of life. Legacy was why he was born, why he lived, even why he died. Steph knew that, and she could see the toll it was taking on Damian as he was growing more accustomed to the hero life. He chose to be Robin, sure. But in his life it was the lesser of two evils, and he still spent nearly every night honing the only skills his upbringing and parentage allowed him to have. She hated watching him live in a box, having known what it was like to be constantly manipulated and controlled by a parent she wanted so deeply to love and be loved by. Outings like these were the only way she could forcibly rip away the layers of Batman and Robin, Wayne and Al Ghul that shrouded his life.

The wheel rotated again, filling a seat with the last of the few passengers. "If you could design your own costume, no name or legacy to worry about, what would you wear?" she asked.

His response was automatic. “Something armored, but still sleek. Dark grey, with black detail. Well equipped, imposing, with a partial to full mask. And a cape. A large, dark cape."

Steph paused, not sure if he was fully aware of what he just said. "You just described Batman."

"Yeah, so?” He appearing unfazed, but she could pick up on a slight lilt that faltered beneath his words. Finally the ride began, causing his far-too-over-gelled hair to barely ruffle in the wind.

Steph pushed it a little further. "One of the nice things about no one wanting me to be a hero was that my identity was almost always mine. My name, what I wore, it was all up to me. My first costume? It was made out of my spare bedsheets. I didn't have enough money to buy that much fabric, so I stole my sheets from the closet and hid in the basement with my mom’s sewing machine until I made something I could leave the house in." 

"I've seen that embarrassment; you should have stayed down there longer."

She laughed over the rushing wind, and he smiled a bit. “Was it elegant? Maybe not, but it hid my face and gave me enough movement to fight and that's all I really needed. Plus, it had the added bonus of coming in my all-time favorite color. Even when I had the funds and time to upgrade it to something a little more professional, I kept the same basic design. Hell, I still have that eggplant on my Batgirl get up, and I'm not even rocking the Spoiler name anymore. Sometimes it's just nice to have something you can call your own."

He thought on that for a second, watching the entirety of Gotham slowly circle up and down.

Eventually, he took a deep breath and let it all out in a quick jumble:

"All black with some red or grey detail. Light, fast. Just enough storage for the essentials and my sword. I'd keep my mask—I like the shape. But I want it to be black. Maybe, I'd even keep the hood too. But no cape." He paused, as if to be sure, and then repeated confidently, "Definitely. No cape."

It was clear he had put some serious thought into this, and she wondered how long he’d been keeping in the outrageous thought of his very own costume, his very own legacy, locked away.

“That actually sounds pretty cool."

"Tt- Of course it does. I, unlike you, have taste." The confidence flooded back into his voice as the focus shifted away from him.

She took the bait, just proud he was entertaining the thought of becoming his own person. “Whatever. You know the purple makes me look boss as hell.”

"I know it makes your thighs look huge.”

“Excuse you, brat-wonder. Who told you you could sass your baby-sitter?”

He let out a loud laugh and shoved her just enough for the seat to begin to sway again.


End file.
